


Poor Decisions

by phqyd_roar



Series: IronSpider One-shots [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Let's just ignore the part where Tony's engaged and all, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phqyd_roar/pseuds/phqyd_roar
Summary: He’s surprised, real surprised that Peter Parker turns down his offer. Sure, it’s the mature choice, he has to admit, but he doesn’t expect it from the eager, bouncing puppy who’s been dying to show off for him. It annoys him a bit and niggles at him, the denial somehow pushing the little Spiderling from some corner of his mind up to the front.





	1. Chapter 1

He’s surprised, real surprised that Peter Parker turns down his offer. Sure, it’s the mature choice, he has to admit, but he doesn’t expect it from the eager, bouncing puppy who’s been dying to show off for him. It annoys him a bit and niggles at him, the denial somehow pushing the little Spiderling from some corner of his mind up to the front.

So he invites the boy to continue his internship over the summer holiday at the Compound, be an Avenger in training. He calls the boy personally and listens to him excitedly stumble over his words to agree. After he puts down the phone, he’s surprisingly a little hard. It’s the hero-worship, he loves the rush of it. He’s Tony Stark and plenty of people adore him, but funnily enough they don’t tend to be the people that know him. That tickle of temptation, perhaps, is what makes him house the kid in a room so close to his own and casually mention where he sleeps as he shows him.

He’s never interacted all that much with Peter before - he doesn’t really like dealing with kids. But Peter is so sweet, so likable. He’s smart and funny and he doesn’t stop looking at Tony like he hangs the moon and stars. He’s ever polite, all ‘yes, Mr Stark’ and ‘thank you, Mr Stark’, and when Tony gives him a word of praise he lights up, cheeks pink and eyes shining. It’s just so pretty. He starts thinking about Peter when he jerks off, that soft, innocent, eager look. He wants to put his cock in that pretty mouth, smear his come all over those lips.

He’s a little drunk at 3 am when Peter comes into the living area in a big t-shirt, drowsy and tousled, and fetches a glass to put under the tap before he notices Tony and his friend Mr Jack Daniel taking up the island.

“Mr Stark, you okay?”

“Peter,” he rolls the name around his tongue with pleasure. “I love the way you say my name.”

Peter’s cheek grows pink, his eyes wide. He puts down his glass and comes closer, almost stepping into the V of Tony’s parted legs.

“Mr Stark?” Peter’s wide brown eyes are so dilated. He’s excited.

He hums contentedly. “Just like that.”

“Mr Stark…”

“Come here, kid.”

When Peter obediently steps between his legs, he pushes his fingers into Peter’s soft brown hair, tilts his face up and kisses him. The movement is graceful with practice. He drinks in Peter’s little ‘mmf’ and licks the boy’s mouth open, welcomes the fingers that clutch at his collar and the warm body that presses in close. Peter’s so inexperienced but it’s cute. Tony patiently teaches him the ropes with soft nudges of lips and tongue, stopping only for brief moments to admire Peter’s dazed, astonished look and wet, red lips. He pushes up the hem of the t-shirt, cups that lovely ass through cotton boxers.

“Good boy, pretty boy,” Tony whispers, watches the shiver go down Peter’s spine. “Come back to my room with me, hm?”

“W-what? Really?” Peter blinks rapidly, licks his lips and stares. “Do you- do you know who I am?” 

“Of course I do, Peter.” Tony laughs. He picks up the boy’s hand, puts it on his own chest and slides it down until Peter’s hand is over his erection. Peter gives a squeeze and Tony gives an appreciative groan. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh god-” Peter’s voice lifts and trembles. He strokes Tony’s cock and gasps unsteadily. “Is this-are you sure this is okay?”

“You don’t want to?” He chuckles. “Don’t spare my feelings if you want to leave, I’m used to that.”

“Oh my, oh my god, sir…I want to. But you- I don’t- can we really-”

He sounds conflicted and breathless, almost in tears, but he hasn’t taken his hand off Tony’s cock. Is still stroking, in fact.

“You like me, don’t you?” Tony smiles. Peter nods somewhat desperately. “You look at me like you see something wonderful. I love it. I can’t resist ruining things I love.”

Peter swallows and looks at him with bright, bright eyes.

“You don’t ruin things.”

“So why won’t you have me?”

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Of me?” Tony snorts. He’s too good, this kid. “You couldn’t possibly. Peter, oh. Just tell me what I can do for you. I’ll do anything for you. I’m all yours.”

Peter whimpers. “That’s not- I just. I just want to help you…I just want to make you happy, Mr Stark.”

He’s so cute Tony can’t resist kissing him again, and next thing he knows his lips have found its way down Peter’s body. He’s on his knees tugging down Peter’s boxers and taking it into his throat in one smooth motion, and two sucks later, he’s swallowing down come. Peter looks down at him, wrecked.

“Let’s go to your room.”

 

Peter’s on his knees the moment they get to Tony’s room. His imagination has done no justice to how breathtakingly lovely the sight is. Peter licks his lips, some of that anxiousness gone from his expression. 

“Let me- tell me what to do, sir. Teach me how to- please you.”

_Teach me, sir._ Tony groans and wonders to god how the kid hits his buttons so perfectly. He scrambles with his belt to get his cock out, leaving his pants tangled in a mess around his knees, distracted with the relief of holding himself in hand. He strokes it once and thrusts his hips towards the kneeling boy. He watches the red flesh hit Peter’s pink lips as though it’s not his own; it’s even sort of a surprise to register the sensation of soft skin brushing against the glans. The image is perfectly obscene, down to the look on Peter’s face when he glances up at Tony. It’s so delicious Tony has to steady himself, tightening his grip at the base, and he slaps the shaft against Peter’s cheek a few times without thinking. It’s rude of him, he knows. Peter moans, opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. God, this kid. Unable to resist an invitation like that, Tony pushes into that open mouth inch by inch, thrusts lightly to the sounds of soft, wet slurps. He ruins things. He’s ruining things. Peter’s so sweet and such a good little cock sucker it ought to be illegal. Oh wait, it is. Typical.

“Will you let me fuck you?” He wonders. 

“Mmmmm, sir?” Peter’s response is slow even considering that Tony continues sliding in and out of his mouth a good while before he realizes he had to stop that to get an answer.

He peers down at the boy, and with pleasure recognizes the look on his face. Tony is indiscriminate in his bedding of attractive people but there’s a type that is his favorite, the kind that gets high on having the control taken out of their hands, serves his whims pliantly and willingly. 

He grabs Peter’s hair and gives it a jerk. “Put your hands behind your back,” he says, testing the waters.

Peter does so at once, gazing up at Tony as though there’s no other thought in his head.

“Answer my question, Peter.”

Peter’s rolling his hips slightly, humping the air. Tony’s not sure he knows he’s doing it.

“Okay, sir.”

“You want me to stuff your ass full of my cock?”

“Mmm, please, sir.”

“You want it bad?”

“I’ve thought about it for so long…can’t believe you really want to…”

“What was it like, when you thought about it?”

“Uh-um.”

“Tell me, Peter.”

Peter squirms under his gaze, hard cock dripping onto the floor.

“You hold me down and take me rough and it hurts but it’s good,” he blurts out quickly.

Jesus, Tony actually has to look away because once again he’s so turned on he can barely function. 

“Are you sure I didn’t build you in my lab and forget about it?” He says. “How are you so perfect?”

“We can pretend you did if that’s what you’re into, Mr Stark.”

“No, darling. This is better.”

He works his lubed fingers into Peter’s pink hole and savors the moment, the tight, virginal heat, the buzz of alcohol in his head light and pleasant, Peter moaning and twitching, oh so responsive.

When he meets his eyes, Tony says, “This is where I usually say ‘we’ll go slow’ and ‘we can stop whenever you want’ and ‘I promise I won’t hurt you’.”

“Please hurt me,” Peter says with a brilliant smile. “I want to feel it…I want to remember it.”

Tony possibly forgets how to talk for a second. He puts Peter’s legs over his shoulders and bends him in half easily, lines up his cock and holds Peter’s gaze as he shoves it in, hard but not too fast,popping the head through and working another inch in with each new thrust. Peter’s face crumples and his mouth falls open and no sound comes out. He stops holding his breath after like five thrusts, and then it’s these sweet, broken sounds Tony can’t remember ever hearing before. He steadily pulls a dent where he’s clutching the top of Tony’s bed frame because Tony never thought to Spiderman-proof his bedroom (he really should). Hopefully the bed won’t snap before they’re done. The bar snaps, but the frame retains enough structural integrity that it holds with no more than a new squeak to the rhythm as Tony pounds into Peter. It’s too good to last for long, Tony rolling his hips through his orgasm and groaning out some complimentary nonsense against Peter’s neck.

Drowsy with satisfaction, Tony eases out and turns on his side, holding Peter in his arms. He kisses his neck and pulls on his cock until Peter comes, Tony’s surname shaky on his breath. Having satisfied his lover, Tony contentedly falls asleep.

 

Mornings after always suck, especially when Tony’s fucked someone he shouldn’t. He wakes up with the awareness of having done that and a dry mouth and a strong urge to piss. Then he opens his eyes and finds Peter Parker watching him from two inches away, fifteen-year-old Peter Parker wearing nothing but bruises and lovebites that Tony gave him.

He rolls onto his back and says to the ceiling, “Oh fuck.”

There’s an awkward silence. Tony tries to summon something adult and responsible to say.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Peter sounds wary, cautious. Fuck, Peter’s not scared of him now, is he? What did he do to the boy? He thinks he remembers it all, but then again, his memory’s not the most reliable. “Are you okay, Mr Stark?”

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret, Pete. I’m never okay.”

He goes to the toilet, splashes some water on his face, tries not to look at himself in the mirror. When he gets back Peter’s sitting up cross-legged, looking thoughtful and mature beyond his years, and wow look at those abs, did he even appreciate them properly last night? Tony puts on some pants to lend his up-coming responsible adult act at least the first shred of credibility. 

“Peter,” he begins, “Look, I understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore.”

Peter’s eyes widen in horror. 

“No sir, please don’t take away the internship, I’m sorry!”

Tony feels a wave of reluctant and self-loathing affection for Peter. He closes his eyes and pinches his nose.

“That’s not- you have nothing to be sorry about, okay? It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have done this for many very obvious reasons and I’m not even going to own up to the consequences because I’m just that sort of asshole. I’m not taking away your internship, you’re very talented - I can arrange for you to actually work at SI in one of the R&D labs. You might not be able to continue working on your web-fluid formula but there’s a lot there that should interest you.”

“Do you not want to see me any more, sir?” Peter sounds so sad. 

“Peter!” Tony sits down next to Peter, frustrated. “So you do want to keep working with me for the next three weeks, is that right?”

“I’d like to.” Peter nods. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Alright. Alright, we can do that.”

Peter gives him a small smile, at that.

“Hey, Peter? Did I at least…give you a good time?”

That got him a much bigger smile. “It was the best first time I could have hoped for.”

First time. Holy shit. Tony immediately decides he’s going to need to drink some more to deal with this. 

“Did I give you a good time, Mr Stark?”

“I think you know I enjoyed myself far too much.”

Peter blushes, puffing up with pleasure in a way that makes Tony’s treacherous cock twitch.

“Um, are you in any discomfort? I have some cream or something somewhere around here…”

“Uh, a little bit.” Peter shifts slightly. His voice drops a bit lower. “Not enough, sir.”

Tony jumps up and out of reach before he can do something stupid.

“Okay, very good, we’re going to stop talking about that now.”

Peter snickers, the little shit. Well, at least he’s looking more cheerful than when Tony was trying his best to be responsible, so really it just goes to show you where that sort of behavior gets you.

“Right, well, feel free to use my shower. Then we’ll have breakfast, go down to the lab. Normal day for Iron Man and Spiderman.” 

“Yes, sir.” Peter gives him a little mock salute.

“Don’t call me sir when we’re not in bed.” Tony winces. “Just don’t call me sir at all.”

If anything, that only makes Peter even more cheerful than before. 

“Whatever you want, sir.” He walks off to the bathroom buck naked, Tony’s eyes glued to his butt the entire way.

Normal. No more banging of fifteen-year-old interns harder than he already has. Nice, mentorly behavior. He can do that, right? He’s a genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I guess I could write about how they fail completely at being normal and have kinky lab sex?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinky lab sex occurs.

Peter is so happy. He grins to himself like an idiot as the water pours down over him, rubbing his wet hair. He probably has his enhanced healing ability to thank for the fact that he’s not actually limping right now – for once he curses that blessing. He clenches the inner muscles every so often so he can feel the dull ache and wishes that he felt more. Wishes he was being split open and pounded some more. He washes off the dry flakes of come between his legs, unable to resist pressing his fingers against the sore sphincter repeatedly to make it hurt. His cock is hard again and he briefly wonders whether it would be impolite of him to get off in Mr Stark’s shower. He puts it in context and decides that all things considering, it’s probably fine.

Mr Stark. Oh god, good god. Peter squeezes his cock and rubs at his hole, scraps of memory from the previous night flipping through his mind’s eye like the best porn he’s ever watched. How he had loved being on his knees for Mr Stark. And those dirty things Mr Stark had said to him, he’d never dared to have imagine coming out of his mentor’s lips.

Peter couldn’t believe his luck. At the best of times it was an unlikely thing that the object of your affection just happens to like you back. He remembers this amazed, elated feeling from when Liz agreed to go to homecoming with him, but wow, is it amplified a thousand-fold. This is Tony Stark. His favorite Avenger, his childhood idol, his teenage wet dream, his current mentor. _I had sex with Tony Stark_ , Peter thinks, and just that thought pushes him over the edge, creamy spurts washed off his cock by the warm water as soon as they bubble up. He sort of wants to text all his friends or don his suit and swing through New York yelling out the news to anyone who would listen. Obviously, he can’t do either of those things because a. crazy and b. illegal.

When Peter gets out of the shower, trying not to hog it for too long, he finds clean clothes from his own room set out for him, and Mr Stark nowhere in sight. He hopes the man isn’t freaking out or avoiding him or something. He’s still filled with adrenaline, has been since he heard Mr Stark purr ‘ _I love the way you say my name’_. He barely slept last night – how could he sleep when he needed to savor how it feels to have Mr Stark’s arms wrapped around him, in his bed, filled with his come? It’s not as though it’s likely he’ll ever have such an opportunity again. He wishes they could do it again, wishes they could do it every night, he would do anything, how could he be expected to just be okay now he knows the reality is even better than what he thought it would be?

Peter groans and rubs his face again, curses his hormones and tries to be calm. Normal. Just a regular day for Iron Man and Spider-man with absolutely no exchange of bodily fluids.

He finds Mr Stark in the kitchen pouring whiskey into his coffee. He meets Peter’s gaze with a nod and no comment, so Peter just gets out bacon and eggs, puts bread in the toaster. He’s ravenous. He puts the food on two plates after he’s done cooking, pushes one towards Mr Stark, and sits down on the stool with an exaggerated wince. He catches an unmistakable smirk pulling at Mr Stark’s lips just before he quickly lifts his coffee mug, gulping down the hot liquid and hiding his expression.

Oh. He _likes_ it, doesn’t he? Peter realizes with some kind of horrified, fascinated lust. Mr Stark likes that he’s banged Peter so hard it hurts to sit just as much as Peter likes being banged so hard it hurts to sit. Peter is so preoccupied with trying to process this knowledge that he spaces out on Mr Stark talking to him.

“Sorry, what?”

Mr Stark rolls his eyes. “I said, Rhodey’s coming over in a bit and can I trust you to be alone in the lab without setting anything on fire?”

“You can trust me, sir.”

Mr Stark twitches a bit like he wants to repeat his request for Peter not to call him sir. Out of bed. But he just drinks more coffee instead.

“Anyway, DUM-E’s always ready for fire hazards,” he adds.

 

Peter is understandably distracted in the lab, though yesterday he had been all excited about a potential breakthrough in his new version of non-dissolving formula. He’s bored and consumed with dirty daydreams involving himself horizontal over some of these surfaces and he wants to see Mr Stark with a sort of unrelenting itch in his chest. It’s what Peter would imagine being addicted to drugs would be like. It gets so bad he eventually just quits fiddling with the formula and starts venting at DUM-E, who is an excellent listener, dwee-ing and dwoo-ing at just the right moments.

“-and I know it’s not okay. But I don’t get why it’s not okay. I mean, yeah, as a general rule, situations like these probably shouldn’t be encouraged by society. But it’s not hurting anyone as long as nobody knows. So it’s not like it would make it any _worse_ if we-”

A sudden bout of excited beeping and waving from DUM-E makes him look around to see Mr Stark coming into the lab. He jumps up and tries not to look flustered.

“How’s it going, kid?”

Peter is grateful that he hasn’t yet had the chance to tell Mr Stark about his almost-breakthrough yesterday, so he can just explain that and pretend like he hasn’t completely wasted his morning. They talk about potential ways they can stabilize the formula, and it’s almost normal. Except when Mr Stark talks, Peter looks at his lips and thinks about how nice it feels to kiss them. He looks at the spot where the arc reactor lies under Mr Stark’s shirt. He looks at Mr Stark’s crotch and thinks about the fact that he knows what his cock looks like, and feels like, and tastes like.

“Would you stop undressing me with your eyes?”

Peter jumps and blushes, flooded with embarrassment, and jerks his eyes away.

“S-sorry.”

Mr Stark heaves a put-upon sigh. “My self-restraint has never been the greatest. So I’d appreciate it if you don’t test me.”

Peter’s eyes snap up, because that sounds like- sounds awfully like…if he just pushes his luck a little bit…

“What did I just say?” Mr Stark says, annoyed, glaring down at his sudden armful of Spider-man.

“Sorry?” Peter offers rather insincerely as he gropes for Mr Stark’s cock. He’s grabbed quickly by the wrist and his hand tugged back up to chest level.

“Who the fuck goes straight for the junk? Where’d you learn these moves?” Mr Stark hisses. “Wrong question, scratch that. What do you think you’re doing?”

Peter holds Mr Stark’s gaze. He’s buzzing with lust and terror and the heady power that comes with realizing that Mr Stark is responding to every move he makes. Mr Stark sounds so annoyed but his cock’s half hard and his pupils are blown wide and Peter can hear his heart racing.

“I- I want you to fuck me some more, sir.”

The grip around Peter’s wrist tightens and Mr Stark lets out a whisper that sounds like bitten off profanity.

“I didn’t get enough,” Peter continues, having left shame behind by about 14 hours. “You’re so good at it. Make me hurt. Please.”

Mr Stark gives Peter a sudden, brutal shove. It doesn’t faze him, his reflexes are even fast enough that he can make himself fall somewhat gracefully as he crashes face down on the lab station behind him, sending metal scraps flying. He grabs the edge of the table and shifts his legs open wider, grinning with victory.

“I resent your implication that I’ve left you unsatisfied,” Mr Stark says dryly. “So I’m going to rectify that. One time offer: as much dick as you can take. And then you’re going to behave and quit with the- the looks and the ‘sir’ and trying to send me to jail.”

He grabs Peter’s hair and jerks him up harshly to look him in the face.

“Have we got a deal, Mr Parker?”

“Yes, Mr Stark.”

“Alright then. Side note: try not to break my lab table. It’s a lot more hassle to replace than the bed.”

“I’ll try my best, sir.”

A few minutes later, there are eight deep gorges in the surface of the table from Peter helplessly digging in with his fingers. He’s naked from the waist down and bent over the smooth tabletop, keening in bliss with two of Mr Stark’s fingers massaging his prostate. He really hadn’t gotten nearly enough of this last night. Peter is resigned to the idea that he’s just going to become a huge slut from now on because this stuff feels too good to abstain from.

“You having fun?”

“Mhm, so much fun.”

“Want another?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want to come?” There’s the pleasant burn as another finger is pressed inside him, stretching him open.

“Nuh- not yet.”

“Out of scientific interest, how many times can you come? What’s your cool down period?”

“Um. I don’t actually know? It takes longer…after a while…but I can still…”

“What’s the record?”

“Maybe…15 or 16 times.”

“In…?”

“A night.”

“Holy crap, what did I get myself signed up for. What sort of exciting night was that?”

“I plead the fifth.” Peter pillows his head on his arms and pushes his hips back, not really wanting to admit that night happened to be the one where Tony Stark invited himself into Peter’s bedroom and smartly locked the door.

“Well.” There’s a sudden release of pressure as Mr Stark pulls all the fingers out of him. Then there’s some rustling of cloth and a snap of the bottle cap, then a slick, blunt pressure appears behind him. “Not sure I should have pledged to satisfy you. You’ll have to have some mercy on an old man.”

Peter laughs somewhat giddily. It’s different like this, in the lab in the light of day, even though Peter’s still running on too little sleep and Mr Stark is probably still running on too much alcohol. It feels more like it’s happening in the real world.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine as long as you lay off the bottle.”

Mr Stark shoves it in. Peter yelps.

“Do you still want it rough?”

“Yes, sir.”

With an obliging hum, Mr Stark holds onto Peter’s hips and starts giving it to him. It hurts, definitely hurts like hell especially as Peter’s still sore. But because it’s Mr Stark, it’s the easiest thing for Peter to get into that head space where all the signals his brain registers are jumbled, his mind narrows to a single point, and everything seems insignificant apart from the feelings he’s getting from Mr Stark. He loses track of time, of the sounds he’s making, of the way his fingers dig into the table top. He’s flying higher than New York skyscrapers. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt. He comes without anyone touching his cock, as part of a rising wave of euphoria that naturally tips over.

“Peter. Peter?”

“Mn?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No!” Peter cries at once. “I want to stay here.”

“Okay, just give me a moment.”

Mr Stark pulls out and nudges Peter to turn over onto his back and lie on the lab table. That’s a good idea, because Peter is starting to have some trouble staying on his feet, and he wants to see Mr Stark. He shoots a line of web at the ceiling from each wrist to give himself something to hold onto. Mr Stark’s gaze follows the string up for a moment before he smirks at Peter.

“Useful invention, that.”

He fingers Peter again for a while, rubs at Peter’s prostate until he’s crying with overstimulation, Mr Stark watching him with dark eyes. Peter’s incoherent for the most part, but he gives a vehement no whenever Mr Stark suggests stopping. Mr Stark pairs this pleasure with pinching and twisting Peter’s nipples, syncing the movements like he’s playing an instrument.

“Shall I fuck you some more?” He suggests, voice hoarse, after he’s pulled another orgasm out of Peter with that masterful performance.

Peter feels raw, like he might break into pieces if he moves too much. He nods, blinking damp eyes, and spreads his legs for it. Mr Stark fucks him at a firm, even pace, with Peter’s legs locked around his waist and his mouth sucking on Peter’s collarbone. Every so often, he stops and stills inside Peter or pulls out entirely, panting and looking as though he’s withstanding torture. It takes Peter a stupidly lone time to realize that Mr Stark is holding himself back from orgasm. Because he promised Peter all the dick he could take. Peter’s so fucked out, throbbing with it. But he can’t bring himself to say that he’s had enough, not when every time he so much as looks at Mr Stark he still _thrills_ at how great it is, not when this is Mr Stark’s _one-time offer_. So Peter grins apologetically at him when Mr Stark gasps for breath and holds onto his own cock yet again.

“You’re going to kill me, you brat,” he tells Peter, and he does sound a bit weak.

People can’t die from like, one instance of too much sex, right? Peter thinks guiltily, then immediately remembers that they can. He’s possibly heard somewhere of Roman emperors dropping dead on top of too many sexy Roman ladies. He would go down in history as a really, really terrible superhero if he débuts as the one who killed Iron Man because he couldn’t get enough Iron Dick.

“Maybe if this wasn’t the only chance I’m ever going to get…”

Mr Stark punctuates his outraged look with a long deep thrust, bearing down on Peter threateningly with his body weight.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

Mr Stark kisses Peter messily, bites at his lower lip as though in punishment.

Feeling talkative, with the idea that there might be no better time to further push his luck than now, Peter continues between kisses, “Don’t you think it’s just a bit weird to have sex two times? Three is a much better number, three is symbolic. It’s important to humans as a race-“

“Shut up. Fine.”

Peter smiles and kisses him enthusiastically, making no comment at the embarrassingly relieved groan Mr Stark makes as he finally speeds up the pace erratically and comes inside Peter once again.

Some minutes later, Peter and Mr Stark stand side by side wordlessly, looking down at the scratched up table top, the semen splashed on the table and the floor, the scattered parts and tools everywhere, the web strings dangling from the ceiling. They pointedly do not look at DUM-E hiding in the corner.

"You know, you're a lot more high maintenance than I'd have expected," says Mr Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I guess I could write about how they fail completely at being normal and have kinky lab sex?


End file.
